


My Precious Boys

by sarcastrow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6189133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastrow/pseuds/sarcastrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minerva reflects on her boys at the first annual Dumbledore's Army Reunion. Followed by My Amazing Girls</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Precious Boys

_May 3 1999 1 AM._

_I am so tired, but I must write these thoughts down. At the party this evening I was struck by how my boys, my precious boys have grown._

 

 

My precious boys

 

“The Chosen One.” 

That’s what they all called him. Now they call him “savior”. I called him Potter, and now Harry. I would have preferred son. His parents were good friends, valiant solders, and they gave their lives so that we would have Harry. There was little doubt that he would be in my house when he came to Hogwarts, and so he was given over to my care. I tried very hard not to show any favoritism toward him, and I only broke that self-imposed rule once. At two month’s salary, it was the most extravagant gift I have ever given. The look on his face when he opened the package was worth it though. If I showed any favoritism it was to his two best friends. He grew from the awkward, Muggle raised boy, that didn’t know the first thing about our world, to the savior he became in my house and under my instruction. When he told us all to stay back, that he, and he alone, had to face the most powerful and evil man the world had ever known, I knew I had done well.

 

The Irishman. 

Seamus Finnigan had to fight harder than anyone but I and his mother knew to return for that awful year. Margaret Finnigan was a Ravenclaw when I was simply the charms professor, and not yet head of Gryffindor house, but she cut a swath through the school with her quick temper and razor tongue.  Her firmness of position was unmatched in my experience, until Seamus came to me in the hours following Dumbledore’s funeral. At his insistence I sat with him and his mother. He did almost all the talking. Aye, the boy, No! M _an,_ inherited all his mother had and more. By the time he was nearing the end of his speech, it was clear that Margaret was going to lose the argument. 

She was so worried, as was I. I would have been a fool not to know what was coming in the following year. I am many things, fool is far from them. She lost her Angus, her first husband, in the fight against Riddle twenty years earlier. I knew her near manic insistence that Seamus stay in Ireland with her was purely out of fear. Seamus, god love him, never lost his temper with her, but with his Gryffindor courage on full display, he told her flat out he would be coming back even if he didn’t take a single class. Because Neville needed him, he told her. Neville did need him, but I think one Miss Brown had a good deal to do with his decision also.

 

The Artist.

 I was very afraid for Dean Thomas. The snatchers and the ministry commission were a kind of hell. He was the gentlest and most studious of the boys. A lover, not a fighter, he is fond of saying, but he is every bit as brave as any of his dorm mates. His conduct whilst a fugitive, and during the battle, was exemplary. He fought bravely before his capture, even witnessing the death of his friend and surrogate father, Ted Tonks. That did not turn him though, and it could well have. He could have run from our world when he had the chance, but, knowing perhaps better that any of the others what awaited in failure and capture, he chose to stay and fight.

Oh and fight he did. Dean was unarmed when he arrived at the school that night. I and Horace are perhaps the only ones who know how Dean won Hammerlin Crabb’s wand, and that will stay our own personal story. Suffice to say Dean is far stronger than he looks, in many, many ways.

 

The Companion.

Without Ronald Weasley Harry would have failed. Harry has said it, Hermione has said it, and they are the ones to judge. Every one of Molly’s children passed through my care, and I grew to know her well, most especially during Fred and George’s tenure. Having seen all the Weasley boys I was prepared for Ron. What I was presented with was not what I expected, and everything I expected. He was not a younger version of the twins (thank god!).  He also was not a younger version of Percy (thank god!). He was most similar to his oldest brother, William. Not the best student, although Miss Grainger  excelled at inspiring him to loftier goals, not the calmest head in a crisis, though in the thick of battle he proved his mettle against the werewolf, may that worm ridden piece of filth rot in the hell he deserves, but he is the most loyal and brave Gryffindor I have ever  met. Harry had to fight, Hermione had to fight, Ron chose to fight.

At our weekly tea a month ago, Hermione related to me, the pride glowing in her eyes matching the engagement ring of her finger, the story of Ron’s rather forceful defense of her when they went to Australia to retrieve her parents. (That young woman will be minister one day, and god help the Wizengamot when she is) The story she tells of him standing up to her father, protecting her from her parent’s anger, made me prouder of him than did his heroics in the great hall.

 

The Leader

Frank and Alice Longbottom are two of my oldest and dearest friends, even if they don’t remember me after my visits. Oh, I still go twice a month. With concentration, and my steady hand at the _Cognis Maxima_ charm, I can bring Alice back from the fog for a few minutes. None of the healers know I do it, they’d object, but since Neville came to me I’ve kept Alice informed of his progress. I’ve never let Neville know that I visit his parents, and I don’t believe that I will. He came into his own in his fifth year. Facing Riddle’s whore (oh what my students would say!) was a turning point in his life. It could have gone two ways. He might have run or died, but he didn’t, he fought. Oh how he fought! And he didn’t stop, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He was relentless. I recognized his father in him for the first time the day he returned from the battle at the Ministry.

I was by turns terrified and flushed with pride when he, the boy turned man that many thought had been miss-sorted, faced the Dark Lord with empty hands. The sword has presented itself six times in the history of Hogwarts. That it chose Neville says more than I ever could. It was fitting and just that he was the one to kill the snake and clear the way for Harry to finish Riddle. 

 

 

 

And so they stood in review there at the first anniversary party. Sybil, standing next to me, said she didn’t need the sight to read their futures, and I agree. Mr. Thomas practically glowed with the love he has for the appropriately named Miss Lovegood. Miss Grainger has been as in love with Mr. Weasley as he is with her for the last four years, pity it took them so long to realize it. Seamus Finnigan presents a problem. We all know how he feels about Miss Brown, his actions a year ago prove it, but he has some growing to do first. For her part, Lavender is recovering, and we shall have to watch and hope that he and she find their way. Neville and Hanna Abbott have been inseparable since school began in September. Their romance is the subject of constant gossip at the school, and they have weathered that storm very successfully. With the level heads they both possess I am confident in their future together.

 And then there’s Harry. He and Miss Weasley have a bond that I think will stand the test as easily as Mr. Weasley and Miss Grainger’s. Her ferocity when she believed he was dead showed me the depth of her feelings for Harry. That is a very good thing, as Lilly’s ring, that Harry showed me this afternoon, is destined for Ginevra’s finger tonight. In fact I’m certain she is wearing it as I write.

And on that pleasant thought I shall retire for the evening.


End file.
